Shrink-wrapped rolls of four-foot pieces of carpet were all that was left of the house on 15th and Main. The neighbors might've noticed but Jimmy--the local trash collector surely didn't. He was paid extra to turn a blind eye and for good reason. Why I couldn't have his job I'd never know.
I wasn't cut out for this sort of life, after all, I’d only just awoken in this hell-hours before. I should have known when the pretty lady at the bar smiled deviously as she blew twenty-four karat pixie dust over the roaring flames of my tonic whiskey.
About the Creator
K.H. Obergfoll
Writing my escape, planning my future one story at a time. If you like what you read—leave a comment, an encouraging tip, or a heart. It is always appreciated!!
& above all—thank you for your time
Keep reading
More stories from K.H. Obergfoll and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Madame Horne's Lavish Library of Worldly Wizardry
Bitter, yellow-chalk colored fog clouded so thickly in the dormitories rafters that Cassie could practically taste it. “I don ‘t care what color the fog is Ginny, that is the least of our worries.” Cassie hissed as she dragged a heavy foot-stool closer to the center of the cold, drab, oversized room while Ginny used a pair of broken binoculars to assess the origin of where the fog was coming. Of all the hundred-and thirty-two rooms in the east wing, Milweather’s Girls dorm was at the tip-top of the mountainous circular tower. An upside-down cone hung above them with carved wooden spindling to catch all the wayward spider-webs that bloomed from end to end.
By K.H. Obergfoll3 years ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.